


i thank the oceans for giving me you

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Sober Friends, background relationships in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19346839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: “You need a plus one?”Sansa bites her lip. “If it’s not too much trouble - ”“Not at all.” Theon smiles, softer than the smirk he usually hides behind. “I will gladly escort you to your aunt’s wedding.”Relief rises quickly; his smile is infectious too. “You are a life-saver, Theon.”Theon just shrugs, but his smile seems brighter.





	i thank the oceans for giving me you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anniebibananie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebibananie/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNIE! You are such an amazing and lovely person you deserve all the love in the world. Hopefully this little fic will make your day just a bit brighter. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten back into this show and wouldn't have stepped into the fic writing waters at all. Thank you for listening to my random fic ideas and band au thoughts and just generally being an amazing friend. I love you <3
> 
>  
> 
> Prompts for this fic are at the end. Title from "Hesitate" by the Jonas Brothers.
> 
> Background ships: Robb/Margaery, Gendry/Arya, Bran/Jojen, minor hints of Dany/Yara

 

 

On a Thursday night, the Starks’ bar of choice - usually  _ Pyke _ \- tends to hold a mix of people: couples on the beginning of dates, scoping out their partner before committing to dinner; coworkers unwinding during happy hour; and the regulars.

Despite temporarily relocating to King’s Landing for university, Sansa still considers herself a regular. So she does not care who hears when she groans into the counter of the bar. “I need a plus one to this miserable wedding.”

Beside her, Arya takes a pull of her beer. “How do you know it’s going to be miserable?”

“It’s Aunt Lysa.” Her head turns in her arms to face her sister. “It’s going to be miserable.” Shrugging, Arya doesn’t disagree, just drinks more beer. Sansa sighs. “Between you and Gendry, Robb and Marg, Bran and Jojen… how likely is it she’ll get on Rickon about being single?”

“Unlikely.”

Sansa sighs again, but before she can continue her laments about her aunt and how she can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business, a loud voice interrupts. “Why do you look like you’re eating a sour lemon?”

Grimacing, Sansa sits straighter and turns to the two new arrivals. Gendry immediately slips beside Arya, kissing the top of her head; Arya, to her credit, does not flinch, only the small smile on her face an indication she even acknowledges her boyfriend. But it’s Theon, hand on the back of both their stools, who leans forward. “Do we need to call Robb and Jon for reinforcements?”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “No.” 

Standing straight again, Theon looks between her and Arya. “Then what can I do to help?”

Sansa can pinpoint the exact moment that the idea comes to Arya. It’s only a second later the same idea clicks in her mind as well. “Arya - ”

“Aunt Lysa is getting married in a few months.” Arya sits as if the picture of innocence, but with a smirk teasing the edge of her lips and Gendry rolling his eyes behind them, Sansa knows not to be fooled. “She’s not going to leave Sansa alone about not having a date.”

Frowning, Theon turns to face Sansa completely, effectively blocking out Arya from their conversation. “You need a plus one?”

Sansa bites her lip. “If it’s not too much trouble - ”

“Not at all.” Theon smiles, softer than the smirk he usually hides behind. “I will gladly escort you to your aunt’s wedding.”

Relief rises quickly; his smile is infectious too. “You are a life-saver, Theon.”

Theon just shrugs, but his smile seems brighter.

  
  


 

**THEON:** what do you call a date that isn’t really a date but a favor?

**YARA:** a favor

**THEON:** thats lame

  
  


 

The reception is - as Sansa expected - stiff and boring.

Lysa Baelish - once Arryn and before that Tully - spares no expensive on decorations or food… or alcohol. So while the majority of the guests avoid the dance floor, elevator music in the background, most of Sansa’s friends and family have indulged in the open bar. Robb and Margaery look decent, although there’s a pink tinge to Robb’s cheeks and Margaery leans on her boyfriend more than usual. Bran nurses his one glass of hard liquor; although Arya appears quite sober, Sansa knows for sure she’s at least four drinks in.

The only one not partaking in drinking is Theon.

Her date - well, not date, plus one, but isn’t that the same thing? - has been hovering beside her throughout the night; occasionally, he will wander toward Robb and Margaery, occasionally striking conversations with Bran or Arya or Jon (who sticks to the shadows, barely appearing, almost as if he wishes to be anywhere other than  _ there _ )… but he only drinks water, always catching her eye when she heads to the bar. With Theon purposefully remaining sober, Sansa decides to stand in solidarity and orders virgin shirley temples.

Theon leans with his back against the counter; he’s rolled up the sleeves on his shirt and the veins of his forearms are visible when he crosses his arms. Quickly looking away, Sansa swallows. If Theon notices her momentary lapse of mental capacity, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, his shoulders slightly tense despite his laid back posture: “You can drink, you know.”

Sansa bites back a smile. “I know. I just don’t want to.”

“I mean it - ”

Sansa makes sure he looks her in the eye. “So do I.” Theon relaxes; Sansa finds herself leaning in closer when he does. “I’ve never really been a huge drinker anyway.”

If Theon doesn’t believe her, he doesn’t argue. But the look in his eye - a knowing look, appreciative and surprised and maybe impressed - draws out a smile from them both. His arms fall to side when he stands straight. “Want to dance?”

Startled, Sansa shakes her head. “You don’t - no one else is even dancing.”

“So?” Theon takes her hand and Sansa ignores how nice it feels to have him holding it. “Come on, I know you’ve been dying to dance all night.”

“And how would you know that?” Theon tilts his head with a knowing look and Sansa lets the smile creep onto her face. “Fine! Fine, yes, let’s dance.” At that moment, the bartender places Sansa’s refill on the counter. “Oh shoot - ”

Theon picks it up in his free hand and moves them back towards the rest of her family. “Margaery!” he calls, perhaps a little more loudly than necessary. 

Margaery, wrapped around Robb’s arm, frowns. “What is that?”

“A drink! Drink it.” Margaery takes it, still frowning, and sniffs it. “Oh come on, you know I wouldn’t do anything to it.” 

With a shrug, Margaery downs it… only to grimace afterward. “This isn’t alcoholic!”

Theon grins before moving towards the dancefloor, Sansa right beside him. “Never said it was!”

Margaery curses him but Theon laughs as they walk away. Sansa nudges him with her shoulder. “Why do you not like her?”

“I like her just fine,” defends Theon. There’s a few more people on the floor now, as the music finally transitions to something a little more modern. Their hands still clasped together, Theon places one on her hip while she places hers on his shoulder. As they sway, the smile on Theon’s face doesn’t waver. “Margaery is like the annoying older sister I’ve never had - oh wait.”

Sansa laughs, head thrown back. Her thumb grazes the collar of his shirt. “I bet her and Yara would get along very well.”

“I’m afraid if they ever meet I may not be able to live a peaceful life,” says Theon, deadpan, but his consistent smile betrays his teasing. 

Sansa finds that his eyes twinkle when he’s smiling. It’s nice. So is his jawline, the tilt in his smirk, the softness of his curls that graze against her hands every now and then as they continue to sway to the music.

The song changes; it’s faster, a group number, and immediately more people pile onto the floor. Sansa laughs as Theon positions her in front of him in an effort to copy her moves; unluckily for him, when the dance calls for them to face the back, Sansa has a lovely view to his ill-timed dancing.

A few songs later, sweaty and her cheeks hurting from laughing too much, Sansa motions towards the bar, eager for a drink of water. Theons grabs them both a bottle.

“Thank you,” says Sansa, finally, looking into the bottle and not at him. “For agreeing to come.”

“Has your aunt bothered you at all?”

Sansa shakes her head. “She made a comment at the ceremony - ” She grimaces. “ _ He might be a  _ Greyjoy _ but at least you won’t die alone _ .” Sighing, Sansa finally looks at him; his expression remains impassive. “I’m sorry, she’s… you know.”

The corner of his lips curve upward. “It’s okay. I get it.” His shrug seems small, as if he’s used to this. “The family reputation precedes me,” he says, only slightly bitter, before downing the rest of his water.

“It’s crap.” Sansa steps forward, tapping her cap against the rim. “You don’t deserve that.”

Theon shrugs before tossing his empty water bottle. The tips of his shoes graze hers.  “You don’t either.” His eyes flicker behind her, to something or someone. “Speak of the devil.”

“Sansa!” Startled, Sansa turns, bumping into Theon, who’s hand lands on her arm to steady her. Both Lysa and Catelyn - who accompanies her sister, but doesn’t seem very thrilled about it - narrow in on it. “And… your date.”

“Theon, Aunt Lysa,” says Sansa firmly. Her eyes flicker to her mom who sighs.

“Lysa, dear, this is Theon Greyjoy. One of Robb’s good friends and Sansa’s plus one for the evening.”

Lysa studies them, slightly wrinkled nose upturned. “Hmmph, so it appears.” Her eyes narrow at him. “So what does the boy who escorts my niece actually…  _ do _ ?”

Behind her, Theon stiffens, but his hand remains on her. Maybe she’s steadying him. “I’m a swim coach.”

Sansa leans back to look at him, with a small frown, but Theon’s eyes are twinkling again; it’s not because of his smile, but a hint of smugness. Theon  _ is _ a swim coach… but only part-time since he spends so much time helping run his sister’s boat company. Sansa bites back her own grin. “He’s wonderful with kids,” she says instead, the utter truth. “And he’s magical in the water.”

Catelyn raises an eyebrow. “He is indeed.” She looks suspiciously between the two but doesn’t say anything. 

Lysa, meanwhile, lifts her skirts and her nose. “Well  _ my _ son is studying to be a lawyer, like his father.” The snottiness in her tone grates at Sansa but she keeps the polite smile plastered on her face. “Once this falls apart, let me know Sansa. I’ll be sure to find you a better replacement. Anything for my niece.”

And before Sansa can even defend her date - because oh, what the hell, if her aunt is going to be  _ rude, _ she’s going to call Theon her  _ date  _ \- Lysa has disappeared, until she reappears on the other side of the ballroom to rejoin her new husband. 

Catelyn sighs. “I’m sorry,” she says, first to Sansa before turning to Theon. “She’s - ”

“Rude as fuck,” says Theon with a raised eyebrow. His hand has traveled, now rubbing comfortingly along her arm. “It’s fine. As long as she leaves Sansa alone.”

Catelyn and Theon exchange a look over her head. Suddenly, Theon seems to realize they are touching and puts distance between them. 

Catelyn steps forward to give Sansa a hug. “You all can head out. Please take Robb with you before he embarrasses himself and Bran falls asleep with Jojen in his lap.” 

Sansa smiles as she hugs her back. Once her mother disappears, Sansa slowly turns around to find Theon rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, partner, wanna help me get the kids in the car?” he says teasingly, nodding his head towards the rest of the family in various states of drunk and exhausted. 

Rolling her eyes, Sansa sighs. “If we must,” she says, smiling. Theon offers his arm to her once more, and Sansa isn’t sure if it’s because her aunt’s eyes are back on them or because he just wants to be closer to her… but either way, Sansa takes it.

  
  


 

**THEON:** you get home okay? 

**SANSA:** All in one piece! :)   
Thanks for checking in

**THEON:** of course   
how long are you in town for?

**SANSA:** I leave in two days actually.   
But I’ll be back in two months! I got a new job closer to the family and I’m really excited about it.

**THEON:** that’s awesome! congrats!   
i’m sure everyone’s glad you’ll be closer

**SANSA:** No one more than me, ha!   
And if you ever need a plus one, let me know. I owe you one.

**THEON:** you don’t owe me anything, sansa. it was fun. i had fun.

**SANSA:** I had fun too.

  
  


**ROBB:** need any help moving in?

**GENDRY:** arya and i can help

**MARGAERY:** i’ll tell everyone what to do

**THEON:** of course you will

**MARGAERY:** somebody’s got to!

**SANSA:** Thank you, everyone! I’ll gladly take your help! Next Saturday!

  
  


**THEON:** hey so i know you’re moving in next Saturday, but would you happen to be free that night?

**SANSA:** I think so, why?

**THEON:** yara is hosting this business dinner thing and she’s absolutely not letting me come alone so i could really use a plus one and i just thought, after your aunt’s wedding…    
if you wouldn’t mind   
i’d love it if you’d come with me   
if you think it’ll be too much right after moving, i totally understand

**SANSA:** I’ll be there.

**THEON:** you sure?

**SANSA:** Finally getting to see you in a work environment? Absolutely!

**THEON:** it’s not MY work, it’s yara’s company

**SANSA:** You work there though. You help her run it.

**THEON:** I guess.   
i’d love for you to meet yara though

**SANSA:** I can’t wait!

**THEON:** :D

  
  


 

Theon returns to Sansa’s new apartment next Saturday night, knocking at her door. Playing with the sleeves of his button down, he waits; he isn’t quite sure why he’s nervous. He spent time brushing his hair - not that it did much good - and ironing his shirt, but that’s for Yara and for the business.

And when the door swings open and he sees her, he can almost believe that’s the only reason why.

“Hi,” she says, smile bright. 

“Hi,” he replies because right now words are hard and Sansa is beautiful, in a shimmery black cocktail dress. “You look beautiful.”

A blush colors her cheeks; a part of Theon wonders how far her blush travels. “Thank you. You clean up nice yourself.” His thoughts veer off in unsafe territory, especially when her gaze travels the length of him, pausing at his arms. 

Theon clears his throat. “Shall we?” 

His thoughts are a swirl - her legs are  _ long _ , and her skin is bare, and she’s wearing some flat shoe that he imagines would be quite easy to strip off her and throw across a room. The dress is glittering in the street lights, but her skin - from her legs to her shoulders to her  _ neck _ \- glows. He may have told her she’s beautiful - and she is - but Theon thinks it again: she’s fucking  _ beautiful _ .

By the time they reach his car, parked right outside her apartment, Theon has taken several deep breaths in an effort to bring his thoughts back to appropriate territory. This is not a date, just two friends going to an event together; he is  _ definitely _ not Sansa’s boyfriend, and while he’s beginning to realize that’s a label he’d gladly own, she deserves nothing less than the best. And Theon knows that’s not him.

Theon’s car isn’t  _ old _ , per se, but he is still self-conscious when Sansa sees it. She makes no comment, however, before climbing in. As the engine ignites and he pulls out into the road, Theon taps his finger against the steering wheel. 

“So do your people think we’re  _ together _ , or is this just… a date?” Sansa glances at him sideways, her pink lips turned upward. 

Theon swallows. The images assault him - those lips on his, kissing down his chest… He grips the steering wheel harder. With effort, he manages to keep his voice steady. “I didn’t really - they just know I’m bringing someone.”

“Do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

_ Yes _ . It’s the first thought, the only thought, and perhaps Theon should analyze it more carefully. But it seems right. “If you’re comfortable with that…”

“I am.” Leaning against the window, she looks at him and out of the corner of his eye, he notices her slight frown. She’s studying him and Theon shifts under her gaze. “So any secrets I should know as your girlfriend?”

A moment passes, his heart clenching in his chest. “I don’t really share it at work - ”

“I don’t need to know if you don’t want me to,” says Sansa quickly, sitting straight up, red hair falling in waves. Theon keeps his eyes on the road, but his fingers twitch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - ”

“I’m an alcoholic.” Theon winces. “Well - okay,  _ recovering _ . It runs in the family.” Even as he tries not to care about her reaction, he chances a look over his shoulder. “Two years sober.”

When Sansa doesn’t respond, Theon keeps his eyes forward. There’s a tension in his jaw, a tension in the  _ car _ , the silence so thick it’s suffocating. His heart crackles like a fire at its height, ready to devour. But then: “That’s incredible.” Out of nowhere, her hand rests on his arm, and without thinking he flexes. Her soft hand on his hard muscle - the kindness and understanding radiating from her - blood rushes downward, but makes a significant pitstop to his heart.

“Thank you.” His throat is dry.

She squeezes once before letting go. “Good thing I don’t like drinking anyway.”

“You don’t - ”

“But I want to.” Her voice is strong, determined, and Theon knows it’s pointless to argue. Besides, why argue when he appreciates it - Sansa’s support, her solidarity. It swirls in his stomach like butterfly wings ready to set loose.

So Theon just lets his smile free. “Okay.”

 

 

Theon shouldn’t be surprised that everyone loves Sansa after a single conversation, but he has to admit he is, just a bit. Daenerys, one of Yara’s business partners (and maybe personal as well),  _ giggles _ at Sansa’s tale about her family’s vacation to White Harbor (Rickon had stolen Robb’s swim trunks and Arya painted them with very ugly flowers. Robb wore them the entire trip with Sansa’s oversized sunglasses... like a man). Even Cersei Lannister cracks a smile. 

The people gravitate to her, moth to flame, and all Theon has to do is keep his hand steady on her lower back and pretend he’s in love with her.

Somehow, Theon does not find this very difficult. Somehow, Sansa charms  _ everyone _ \- including Theon, just a little (but really a lot) and he can’t keep his eyes off her. Somehow, when Sansa declines a glass of champagne and catches his eye, Theon only squeezes her hand in response and keeps his mouth shut.

There are too many words growing in his throat. He swallows them.

At some point, Theon gets dragged into a conversation with Tyrion Lannister about fiances and lumber and honestly, he isn’t paying much attention, because out of the corner of his eye he easily spots Sansa’s bright red hair bumping into the imposing figure he would recognize  _ anywhere _ \- 

“Sorry, sir,” says Theon, eyes flickering between the corner where Sansa and Yara stand and his current companion. “I think my sister’s cornered my date - ”

Tyrion’s smile is understanding, but the twinkle in his eye feels mischievous. “Now that just won’t do.” He tilts his head before grabbing another glass of Scotch. “Go on.”

Without a backward glance, Theon weaves through the crowd; several people he vaguely recognizes - and many he doesn’t - wave to him, offer him a slap on the back, try to stop him for a conversation - but he’s focused on  _ Sansa _ and his  _ sister _ , and Theon can only pray he gets there before -

“And this is back when Theon was obsessed with stuffed animals - especially that pink squid right there? I think he still has it - ”

“Yara!” Theon interrupts, his face already growing red, but he’ll claim it’s because he rushed over here. “Sansa! You’ve met.”

The women exchange a look. A part of Theon is pleased to see them getting along. 

A larger part is scared.

Yara smirks; Theon gulps. “I was just telling your  _ date _ about our lovely childhood,” says his sister, every syllable dripping with hidden meaning.

“You’re very lucky to have such a wonderful older sister, Theon.” Sansa beams.

Theon’s eyes narrow. “Yeah. Lucky.”

“You’re quite wonderful yourself, I hear.” Yara leans closer to Sansa,  _ too  _ close in Theon’s humble opinion, her next words catching in Sansa’s hair. “Kind, gentle, supportive… quite the catch, according to my brother.”

Theon likes to believe the flush that overtakes Sansa’s skin is because of  _ him _ , so he steps closer to his  _ date _ , gently laying a hand on her lower back. His thumb dances over the ridges of her dress. The pink colors her cheeks and her ears and Theon imagines what it would be like to kiss the warmth and her skin and - 

“It’s all Theon.” Sansa looks up at him and all the thoughts running through his head cease. Now, it’s only Sansa and swimming in the sea of her eyes. “He’s strong…” She clears her throat, as if it’s dry, before smiling at his sister again. “I’m very - proud - of him. Two years is a long time.”

Theon rubs the back of his beck with his free hand. “It’s not that long.”

Yara nudges him on the shoulder. “Take a fucking compliment, Theon. Gods know how you convinced this one to  _ like _ you.” Sansa laughs, almost into his neck, and Theon can’t breathe. Yara shakes her head. “If you ever tire of him…” She wriggles her eyebrows and Theon rolls his eyes.

Sansa bites her lip, trying to hide her smile. “While I’m flattered,” she says, always kindly, before her gaze captures his. “I don’t think that’s going to be possible.” He’s drowning again; Sansa exhales. “He’s quite supportive of me too.”

There’s something about the way she says  _ too _ , like gravel turning into dust on her lips. While curious, Theon says nothing, leaving his touch gentle; he knows it’s a lie -  how can he be supportive when this isn’t real? - but fuck, he wants to  _ try _ .

“You saved me once, so I saved you too. We saved each other,” he says, because it seems like the  _ right _ thing, even if it’s all lies. But it feels like a truth instead.

Sansa blinks and her soft smile transforms into something a little more brittle, yet still shining. Later, Theon might be able to call it  _ fake, _ but in the moment, Yara once more flirts with her and Sansa only just doesn’t flirt back. Sighing, Theon shakes his head when his sister finally leaves.

“She loves you,” says Sansa, a knowing tilt in her lips.

“I know.” 

By the time the night winds down, Yara dismisses them with a head tilt and roll of her eyes and Theon doesn’t hesitate to lead Sansa out. Lucky for him - and it  _ must _ be luck - Sansa seems to understand and doesn’t question the quick exit.

It’s not until the car ride home that Theon finally asks the question plaguing him.

“You said something to Yara that… well, you asked me if I had any secrets and - if you don’t want to talk about it - I just was wondering - “

“I’ve had a rough go at the whole boyfriend thing.” Sansa looks out the window, her reflection easily visible in the night sky. Theon does his best to look forward, but the red highlights sparkle from the glow of blurred street lamps. “Bad judgment, or bad taste, or maybe just bad luck, but…” She sighs and doesn’t continue.

“You deserve better than that.” It’s all that he knows to say, all that he really  _ can _ say. There’s an edge of anger building; the thought that  _ anyone _ could treat  _ Sansa _ poorly - it’s devastating.

But Sansa smiles at him, still leaning against her door but now facing him. There’s so much physical space between them but they’re building a bridge over the emotional chasm. “I do. I do deserve better.” The smile is tinted with relief, flecks of gold glittering with hope. Turning, she sits straight in her seat, but she still looks at him with a secret smile. “I had fun tonight.”

Theon can’t  _ not _ look at her too. “I had fun too.” He pulls over in front of her apartment before he speaks again. “Thank you for - for a lot of things, actually… but mostly for agreeing to come with me tonight.”

“Anytime.” Sansa doesn’t move to open her door. Instead, her fingers twist in her lap. “I mean that, too. Anytime you need a plus one for something…”

And maybe, really and truly and it’s just the honest goddamn truth… his heart may skip a beat. “I know who to call.”

Sansa’s laughter stays in the car with him, even when she steps out of the car with a pause before closing her door; even when she waves from her door and disappears; and even when he drives away, his ears still ringing.

  
  


 

**THEON:** i just wanted you to know that while i’ll gladly be your plus one to anything    
the only time we hang out doesn't have to be at an event

**SANSA:** I see you every other day. 

**THEON:** yeah but that’s like… with other people   
i mean if you just wanted to hang out   
just the two of us   
that’d be fun too

**SANSA:** So you’d come with me to see the new live action disney movie?

**THEON:** now let’s not get crazy   
animated? fuck yes   
but you lost me at liveaction 

**SANSA:** So Thursday afternoon?

**THEON:** yeah i’ll pick you up   
  


 

**YARA:** i hope you know if you weren’t my little brother and i didn’t love you and shit   
i’d date the fuck out of her for you

**THEON:** i know

**YARA:** so don’t fuck up

**THEON:** i’m trying my best

**YARA:** i know and i’m proud

**THEON:** stop being nice to me i don’t know what to do with that

**YARA:** fuck you

**THEON:** love you too

  
  


**SANSA:** So remember that time when you said you’d be my plus one if I needed it...

**THEON:** i’m there.   
where’s there?

**SANSA:** It’s my first work event and Margaery will be there, but she’ll be busy since she’s planning it and I can bring a plus one and I just thought maybe it’d be better to have another familiar face?

**THEON:** i already agreed to come   
no need to butter me up   
‘familiar face’ you flatter me love

**SANSA:** Oh hush you know what I mean.

**THEON:** i also accept bribes

**SANSA:** _ typing _ … 

**THEON:** saltwater taffy is my favorite

**SANSA:** Oh right that kind of bribe.

**THEON:** what kind of bribe did you think i was talking about?   
:O do think of me as a lowly escort to be BOUGHT   
the injustice   
the indignity

**SANSA:** I was thinking more along the lines of the new lingerie set I bought.

**THEON:** _ typing… _

**SANSA:** I’m kidding of course.

**THEON:** oh. that type of bribe.   
right! of course!   
kidding

**SANSA:** So Friday night at the Highgarden Hotel… I’ll be the one in the dress

**THEON:** I’ll be the one in suit.

**SANSA:** Can’t wait :)

  
  


 

It only occurs to Sansa that bringing Theon to a work event might backfire when the third model in twenty minutes slides next to them and  _ giggles _ . It’s not because the gorgeous woman twirls her hair or bats her incredibly long eyelashes. It’s not even because Theon smiles or laughs in return.

No, it’s because Theon is  _ attractive _ .

It hits her, all of a sudden, a slap in the face. He stands there, laughing, in a sharp jacket that somehow is both too big for him and yet just right. Because his eyes are a swirl of blue and green and they glitter when he’s happy - like now, with attractive, beautiful women touching him. He’s just about her height, his hair curling at the ends, and whenever Theon adjust his weight and edges closer to her, his shoulder skims hers. Every brief touch, the barest of connections, and Sansa feels a combination of heat and wind building in her stomach. 

It’s  _ annoying _ .

But then Theon turns to her, drawing her into the conversation, asking a question he knows she knows the answer to or heaping praises on her she didn’t even know he could. Theon Greyjoy is the perfect boyfriend - supportive, doting, and affectionate.

And none of it is real.

The thought should be a cold bucket of water to the fire building in her gut, but instead the smoke still builds. Instead, Sansa leans into his touch, holds his hand lightly between her fingers, blushes when he slyly flirts in front of company.

It’s so easy to pretend to be Theon’s girlfriend. It’s almost like she doesn’t have to try.

_ That _ thought should maybe worry her. Sansa decides not to let it.

But when a tall, beautiful redhead approaches, eyes focused on Theon, Sansa almost steps back. Theon grins when she approaches, brighter and friendlier than he has been all night… there’s recognition there. Theon  _ knows _ her.

Sansa isn’t sure if she wants to leave or hold on tighter.

“Well, well, well. Theon Greyjoy.” The woman’s smile is bright and wide and highlights her already stunning features. When her head tilts, her hair cascades like a waterfall. “You look good.”

Theon releases Sansa’s hand to hug the woman. “Ros.” He doesn’t say her name like a prayer, in devotion, but there is an intimacy to it. Theon’s hand drifts back to her own when he releases the old… friend? Flame? Sansa tries not to care.

Ros turns to Sansa, the friendly smile almost softer now. Her graze flickers to their joined hands - Sansa’s grip might tighten… Theon might squeeze her fingers too - before the smile widens to a grin. “You must be the new girlfriend.”

“Sansa.” 

“Well, Sansa,” says Ros, her heeled foot sliding forward. The slit of her dress splits open, revealing a flash of leg. Sansa keeps her eyes on Ros’ face and Theon chuckles beside her. “Considering the last time I saw this one,” she says, nodding towards Theon with a wry smile, “he was shitfaced and couldn’t find a job, let alone his pants, I think you’re probably a better influence than me.” Theon stiffens beside her, but before Sansa can defend him, Ros shakes her head. “You’re good for him.” 

Sansa opens her mouth - she wants to say it’s  _ Theon _ who’s good for  _ himself _ , who saved  _ himself,  _ it’s not  _ her _ … but she can’t. So instead she plasters on another smile and squeezes Theon’s hand tightly. “Thank you.”

When Ros leaves and before Sansa can even speak, Theon pulls her into a hug. “She’s right,” he whispers into her hair, right behind her ear. The shivers dance along her spine. “You’re too good for me.”

With her arms around his waist, she sinks into chest. Her hands slip under his jacket. Against his collarbone, she whispers back: “You’re too good  _ to _ me.”

Theon says nothing; Sansa thinks he leaves a kiss in her hair but she might have imagined it. Being in Theon’s arms, the feel of his muscles holding her… it’s safe and comfortable and her heart sounds  _ louder _ when he’s standing that close - 

“Ahem.” 

Sansa practically jumps out of Theon’s arms - but she sees who interrupted them, she keeps one arm around his waist, fingers still tangled in the back of his shirt and under his jacket. Theon’s arm slips around her shoulder as he stands perfectly calm. “Margaery,” he says, voice flat… as if she is just an unwelcome interruption.

This, of course, implies that their hug was  _ welcomed _ interaction and Sansa - can’t begin to process that, not yet.

So instead she smiles at her best friend when she eyes them suspiciously. “What are you two doing?”

Theon and Sansa exchange a glance. Before she can really think about it, the lie falls quickly… like honey, like it’s actually the truth, with some sincerity shining through: “Theon and I are dating.”

Margaery raises an eyebrow, elegantly as she is ought to do. “You two are - dating. Like  _ dating _ dating? Or just - ” she waves a hand. “Dating.”

Rolling her eyes, Sansa leans into Theon’s shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices that he’s twirling locks of her hair around his fingers. “We’re  _ dating _ dating. Like for real.” Resting her chin on his shoulder, she looks up at him. “Theon is my boyfriend.”

The finger stills for a moment and Sansa worries that maybe - maybe she overstepped and this whole  _ lie _ was only meant for work parties and strangers, maybe Yara but not  _ really _ , and not  _ Starks _ \- and Margaery isn’t a Stark, not yet, but she’s  _ close _ and if Theon isn’t comfortable with this, if it’s all pretend for him and it isn’t sinking into his bones and threaded through each of his muscles and hidden in each word -

“And Sansa is my girlfriend.” The panic washes away just as quickly as it rose, especially with Theon gazing at her as if his words are real. The truth. As if  _ this _ is the truth.

Margaery studies them both for a long while, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, before a smirk slowly grows. Theon pulls her closer and Sansa’s fingers dig into his side. “I can’t wait to tell Robb.” Sansa isn’t sure what happens first: her insides freezing or Theon stiffening, but Margaery doesn’t seem to notice. “We kind of all expected this - didn’t actually think it would  _ happen _ \- but I told them! I knew you two would be perfect together.” Her laugh is bright and  _ happy _ and Sansa wonders if that joy somehow travels, because there’s a feeling of hope in her gut.

But Theon is still stiff beside her so that extinguishes fairly quickly.

When Margaery leaves, Sansa removes her arm, her hand feeling along his back until she steps away completely. The moment his arm drops from around her she feels cooler. “Are you going to be okay with this? With Robb and the family - I know it was supposed to just be for events and work, but Yara and now Margaery too - ”

Theon doesn’t frown, but there is an odd look on his face. “I’m not worried about Robb and the rest. Yara - Yara is fine. But are you going to be okay with this? They’re  _ your _ family.”

“Of course  _ I’m _ okay with it.” Sansa steps forward and reaches out, placing her right hand on his chest. The wolf charm on her bracelet lands right above his heart. “And they’re your family too, Theon. Maybe not by blood - but we’re your family too.” She hesitates, just a moment, but it feels important, the truth. So she says: “I’m your family too.”

Theon holds her hand, the one over his chest, pressing it deeper as if her skin can actually touch his heart. “Then we’ll figure it out. It’ll work out.” The look in his eye is not afraid or relieved or even resigned. It’s acceptance.

When Theon raises her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to the middle of her palm, it’s as if something falls into place. 

Something about this moment, standing here with Theon and staring into his eyes, feels inevitable.

  
  


 

**ROBB:** so i hear you and Sansa are dating

**THEON:** we are

**ROBB:** is this just a fling? Or is this long term?

**THEON:** i’m actually into her. i’m REALLY into her robb

**ROBB:** Good.   
See you at family dinner on Thursday :D

  
  


 

Just before Sansa knocks on the door, Theon slips his hand into hers. Sansa falters and looks down.

“Is this okay?” Theon frowns. “Sorry - I just thought - ”

“It’s okay, Theon.” It’s more than okay, perfect almost, but she just squeezes his hand instead.

With her free hand, Sansa knocks. It occurs to her that she has the key - as does Theon - and they could very well just open it themselves. But that would mean letting go of Theon’s hand… and she doesn’t really want to do that.

The door swings open fairly quickly and Catelyn Stark stands before them. For a moment Sansa worries her mom with shut the door just as quickly; but a warm smile embraces her face and Catelyn swings the door open all the way to usher them in. “C’mon, we’ve all been waiting for you!”

Of course, they had discussed coming a bit early, a way to ease the family into this  _ ‘we went to the wedding together for convenience but now we’re actually dating even though we really aren’t but I think we really are’  _ fiasco. 

But, in the end, Theon and Sansa decide arriving after everyone else and just ripping off the band-aid once might be the better choice.

Now, though, standing in front of her  _ entire family _ \- and not just those by blood, her siblings and her parents and her cousin-but-basically-brother, but also all their significant others - in the living room… she reconsiders. And it reoccurs to her, in that very moment, that she and Rickon were the only Stark children still single.

“Rickon,” says Theon, as if plucking the thought straight from her head, “thank you for being single.”

Rickon snorts. “Not by choice, mate. I’m working on it.”

Robb leans back in his chair, Ned beside him. The younger Stark taps his chin. “Theon Greyjoy.”

“Oh alright then.” Theon rolls his eyes, but doesn’t drop her hand when he leads them to the empty loveseat couch. “Spit it out.”

Sansa, however, narrows her eyes. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m very happy for you, best friend, for being happy, and I support your decisions’, then keep it  _ shut _ .” Sansa brings their interlaced hands to her lap. “You all  _ know _ Theon - and we’re - ” her voice falters, because as easy as it is to lie to  _ strangers _ … this is her family.

“We’re happy.” Theon looks at her when he says this. His words are pointed, chosen carefully, but the way he  _ looks _ at her - once again, the truth sings like a lullaby and Sansa wants to kiss the honey off his lips. Instead, Sansa smiles and nods in agreement.

It’s Catelyn who sighs. “If we didn’t trust you, Theon, we wouldn’t have given you a key to the house. If we trust you with that…”

“We trust you with our daughter,” says Ned, not quite smiling, but Sansa recognizes that look. It's the one she’s seen him give to Theon before, much more frequently in the past two years than ever before, and a glimmer of pride hums within her. Theon  _ deserves _ their trust, their respect, and Sansa would prefer she not have to fight her family to give it to him.

Without thinking about it, without second-guessing it, Sansa grins and kisses his shoulder. When she inhales, he smells of salt and cologne - like the beach just after sunrise when it’s still breezy and cool, but light and full of possibility. Theon leans into her, his breath warm against her hair, and this time she  _ knows _ he leaves a kiss there.

Sansa shivers, and not from the cold.

Dinner passes as most Stark family dinners do - chaotic and loud, full of laughter and overlapping stories. It’s all very much familiar, all the very same, except Theon sits beside her with a hand comfortingly on her thigh. It moves every now and then when he needs two hands to pass the salad bowl or to help Arya with the wine opener. But for the rest of the meal, his left hand is an anchor, right above her knee. It’s warm and strong and gentle and a part of Sansa wants him to forget that their family is sitting all around them and let his hand travel further up.

She quickly packs that thought off for another time.

After dinner, as is tradition, two Stark children remain to clean up while the others sneak off into the basement with as much alcohol they can carry. Rickon and Jojen - because after a while, a guest becomes just as responsible for the mess - stay back, with Bran choosing to wheel behind them for no other purpose than to watch Jojen do dishes and admire his ass. (Bran’s words, not hers.)

In the basement, while the others distribute their drinks, Sansa sits on the floor, back against the wall. Theon sinks down beside her, knees curled up into his chest. He leans into her. “No drinks for you?”

Sansa gives him a pointed look. “No thank you.” Once again, he stares at her with stormy eyes and intensity, as if this decision brings a storm of emotions. Sansa softens, her hand curling in the little space between them, just on the sleeve of his shirt. “Let me do this for you, okay?”

Theon doesn’t look away; his eyes flicker between hers, searching for an answer or a question, Sansa isn’t sure. And maybe he finds the answer, or maybe he doesn’t, but Theon does not let go of her hand the rest of the night.

 

 

When sunlight burns at his eyelids for too long, Theon lets one eye squint open.

He knows that there’s a body beside him. It’s warm and soft, the weight pleasantly curled on his chest. Now, with an eye open, he recognizes Sansa’s red hair and her soft skin in his own hand. He keeps his breathing even; he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to disturb her. So instead, Theon relaxes and pretends to still be asleep.

If he can prolong waking in favor of another few moments living in this dream, Theon will gladly do it.

 

 

Sansa knows Theon is awake.

With her head resting on his chest, she can feel when his breathing pattern changes. She can feel his thumb absently drawing circles on her palm and his leg twist with her own. 

But Sansa says nothing.

Instead, she keeps her eyes closed, a smile on her face. Sansa cuddles further into his chest some more and lets the warm sun and Theon’s arms cradle her back to sleep.

  
  


 

**ARYA STARK shared a picture.**

****

**ARYA:** the horror

**GENDRY:** cute

**MARGAERY:** awwwwwww

**SANSA:** [blushing]

**THEON:** hey arya?   
can you send that to me?   
need to show the grandkids one day

**JON:** i’m going to be sick   
why do you add me to these things

**ARYA:** you’re our brother shut up

**ROBB:** theon, you are not allowed to have grandkids before me

**THEON:** then you better hurry it up, shouldn’t you?

**MARGAERY:** he should

  
  


 

**SANSA STARK posted a picture.**

****

_ Sometimes you just want to wear shades inside and pretend you’re cooler   
than you are. And sometimes you just have to humor your boyfriend. _

  
  


 

**THEON:** so about sansa

**YARA:** you better lock that down   
asap 

**THEON:** so that’s the plan. except - we weren’t really dating before? she was just… my plus one. 

**YARA:** do you want to be dating her?   
the only answer is ‘yes’

**THEON:** yes   
and i think she wants to be with me too.

**YARA:** then? what’s the problem?

**THEON:** i don’t… know.

**YARA:** well that’s a fucking problem   
maybe you should, oh i don’t know, talk to her about it?

**THEON:** genius, yara. absolute brilliance.

**YARA:** this is why i’m the best big sister you ever had

**THEON:** sure. just don’t tell margaery that.

**YARA:** who the fuck is margaery????

  
  


**SANSA:** I think…    
I think I really fancy Theon.

**ARYA:** well i would fucking hope so   
you’ve only been dating for like two months now

**SANSA:** Right.   
I just.   
I feel like he knows… but I should probably tell him?   
Right?

**ARYA:** are you asking me for relationship advice?   
ME your SISTER who has no feelings?

**SANSA:** You have feelings you just like to repress them in fear you’re going to be hurt.

**ARYA:** wait   
we’re psychoanalyzing you not me   
you’re in love with theon.

**SANSA:** I know.

**ARYA:** he’s in love with you

**SANSA:** I know.

**ARYA:** so what’s the problem?

**SANSA:** I… don’t know.

 

 

Robb proposes to Margaery on a Saturday afternoon during a picnic on the beach. The after-party at the Stark mansion is large and loud and Theon and Sansa are decidedly sober, again.

There are a mix of children and adults milling around, but Theon stays beside Sansa the entire time. It’s easy, being with her, as they converse and laugh and take quiet moments in the corner of the room for themselves, to recharge. In one of those moments where they stand quietly together, Theon rests his forehead against hers as the music switches.

He recognizes it immediately. The transition from background music to  _ dancing _ … not quite the romantic slow song, but still emotional and with a steady beat. Theon catches her eye. “Dance with me?”

Sansa smiles in answer.

Unlike their first slow dance, months ago at a wedding, this time they are silent. They don’t need as many words to communicate anymore; they both live on the same frequency. So when Theon captures her eyes - shining and happy and very, very blue - as they sway, where they just look at each other and  _ know _ … 

Theon knows he wants this to be real. Theon knows  _ this  _ \- holding Sansa, being hers completely and totally -  _ is _ real. And somehow, when her fingers travel from the line of his jaw to the curls of his hair, Theon believes Sansa knows it too.

But silence can only go so far. His heart races in his chest and his skin itches with unspoken words - so maybe he should just  _ speak _ them, say it, whisper it into a kiss behind her ear… Theon opens his mouth to do just that - 

“Can I get everyone’s attention?”

Robb, standing on a table and swaying just a little, raises a glass. Beside him - not on the table, but on the floor - is Margaery, glowing in between her giggles. Theon sighs and looks at Sansa; she looks amused as they move with the crowd closer to Robb. By unspoken agreement, they stay on the edge, close to the door to the backyard. Leaning against the wall, Theon and Sansa still hold hands.

“Thank you all for coming!” booms Robb, grinning widely with his messy red curls bouncing. On the floor, Catelyn shakes her head, but both her and Ned are smiling fondly. “I love this woman - ” Naturally, here he points to Margaery, “ _ so much _ and I am so lucky she agreed to marry me.” He turns to the crowd at large. “We are so glad to be able to share this special moment with all of you - thank you for all your support and just know that since it’ll be a Tyrell wedding… my fiance will not let it be anything short of spectacular.”

Margaery, unable to do anything but smile, climbs onto the table to join Robb. “But tonight is not about the wedding!” She easily takes Robb’s glass and lifts it. “Party on!”

Theon takes it upon himself to finish this properly. “To Robb and Margaery,” he says, lifting nothing since he’s ditched his bottle of water hours ago. Robb catches his eye above the crowd and grins.

The crowd echoes him. “To Robb and Margaery!” The cheers are loud and the new round of congratulations converge onto the happy couple.

Seizing the opportunity, Theon tugs on Sansa’s hand. “Let’s get some fresh air?” She quickly nods and leads him to the back door. 

On their way outside, Bran sits in the way. When he spots them, he grins, eyes flickering from their hands to their faces. “Finally.” When they exchange a confused look, Bran just continues smiling in his infuriatingly all-knowing way. “You’ll figure it out.”

Theon rolls his eyes. “You’re annoying, you know what?”

Bran just smirks and rolls away.

 

 

Theon has always loved the water. The Stark’s pool is no exception, especially in the nighttime. The lamps’ reflections shiver in the wind, ripples of light riding the waves. Sitting on the edge, Theon sinks his feet into the pool, letting the water embrace him. Sansa sits just beside him.

There is no one around to watch them. It’s not the first time they’ve been alone; they have hung out, just the two of them - but it’s friendly and removed from the emotions swirling in his chest. No secret touches, no lingering embraces, no light kisses in innocent places.

So tonight, Theon takes her hand even though there is no one around to watch them. And Sansa intertwines their fingers together. Theon exhales, staring at the water and above - at the dark sky, vast and all-encompassing. It feel momentous.

“I love you,” he says, finally, the weight around his heart suddenly released. “But you knew that, I think.” He turns to face her. She still looks out, to nothing and everything, and glows in the dim lighting. “You’re - you’re it, for me. I won’t hesitate for you. I just - I just want to make  _ sure _ you know that.”

“I do.” Sansa turns to face him, soft smile and intense eyes. “I love you too.” The words are whispers in the night, but they feel so loud to his heart.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

But Sansa does it for him. She swings her legs over, perching on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. And only once his arms are wrapped around her, holding her closer, her fingers outlining his face and hair, does she lower her face to his for the kiss.

Her pink lips taste like starlight and vanilla, like the fresh dew of a Spring morning. His heart sighs in relief when they kiss.

Her legs tighten around him as her teeth graze his lips and his tongue coaxes her mouth open. Every touch of her tongue against his brings fire to his blood, as their movements become more insistent, a little more chaotic. Every moment brings her closer, heart to heart, her hair falling over them like a curtain.

When her lips miss his, she continues kissing down his neck. Theon grins into the space behind her ear. “I want nothing more than to see you fall apart in my arms, but I’d rather do it privately when I have the time to do it over and over again.” He leaves a gentle kiss on her neck before she sits back. “I plan to hold you throughout the night and wake up with you in the morning.” 

Her smile is blinding. “I think that’s a brilliant plan.”

He could get lost in her eyes, in her smiles, in her kisses. His hands massage her thighs and they should get up, return to the party, but Theon does not want to move, not when touching Sansa now is just another reaffirmation that this is  _ real. _

The sounds of drunk shouts and shattered glass break through the reality.

Theon sighs. “We should - ”

Sansa shakes her head. “They can take care of themselves for one night.” Her hands tangle into his hair and her elbows rest on his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

The grin that grows on Theon’s face feels a bit like freedom. He tightens his grip on her thighs - one hand on her ass but she doesn't complain - and stands, taking her with her. Her laugh feels like possibility. 

When she slides down his body, her legs beneath her and still holding his face in her hands, she kisses him, gentle and soft. 

They slip away, hand in hand, and Theon tastes her love on his lips.

  
  


 

**THEON:** do you still have mom’s ring?

**YARA:** it’s the safe at the bank   
WHY   
DO YOU NEED IT?

**THEON:** not yet.   
but soon.

**YARA:** :’)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: “you’re always my plus one to things but now i want you to ACTUALLY be my plus one” 
> 
> "theonsa being the sober friends (cause theon stays sober now and sansa usually does too just so he has a partner and she’s never been a huge drinker anyways) and always taking care of their drunken friends"


End file.
